


Signal

by Mogoin



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Gay Sex, Gun Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8333950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mogoin/pseuds/Mogoin
Summary: — Screw Vanettis, - muttered the man, snapping the buckle and removing the belt from the loops. — I'll smack you.





	

As long as Fango frowned, the Italian understood that he didn’t miss the chance to surprise the unpredictable mafioso. The cigarette slowly moved from the right side of his mouth to the left, his face fell in perplexity. The Orco family madman's eye was caught by a revealing peignoir’s cutout and found Angelo's knee fitted by a stocking. He was playing for time — Lagusa knew, that his hand managed to check whether the revolver is on its place — and slowly exhaled the smoke shrouding his face with gray smack of bitterness.  
— Why is a chick like you in this smelly brothel? — Fango snarled. — Looks like bastards behind this door got a feel for how to please me.  
Swayed, he took a wide step forward. From under the brim of his hat Angelo saw only the boots stepping on the carpet. He suddenly froze.  
— No. They are too stupid to even cover my ass in time.  
The young man felt tension and a smell of liquor.  
— You are not too talkative, are you? Want me to loosen your tongue?!  
— I thought you preferred the ones with much meat on their bones — Lagusa replied coldly and looked at the mafioso.  
The silence hung in the air, sounding more loudly than any words. Dangerously tilted, the cigarette winked at Angelo with its red eye. Fango grinned, enjoying and savoring the awkwardness.  
— I love when pigs squeal — he said thickly and stopped resting his finger on the trigger. — I prefer women, little boy.  
— Sounds convincing, but I’ve got something to offer.  
Interest flashed in a huge grin.  
— You’re here because of Vanettis. If it’s not what I think get out as fast as you can before I want to kill Nero's trusty dog.  
— You know why I’m here — Lagusa got on his feet and bypassed the table.  
— You aren’t here to gamble, are you?  
Hardly an inch was between them. Angelo's breath had to tickle the mafioso’s neck. He forced himself to look away from Fango’s face and lowered his eyes more, than his desire to live allowed.  
— Hey, aren’t you kidding me? Memories of last night haven't cooled down yet, and you want to go for a new ride?  
The young man liked his laughter and the hands caressing an old leather belt.  
— Continuing puissance?  
Bursting out laughing, the Orko’s person bent to look into Angelo's face, and exuded tart smoke.  
— Let's check, little boy? Move, we’ll shake the bed!  
Lagusa sighed with relief. He felt awkward in a women's dress and regretted putting it on instead of thinking up another trick to leave unnoticed. When Angelo passed the mafioso, the cold barrel painfully stuck his back.  
— What’s the matter? — the young man smiled. — We can’t stay here. Your woman might hear us.  
— This cow has nothing to do with it. I heard Cerotto chattering, he saw Vanetti's people outside.  
— He thought so.  
— What? — Fango impatiently pushed him forward. — Walk faster!  
Lagusa went through the door. The corridor was empty, but it seemed narrow for both of them. The bullet doesn't miss in such narrowness.  
— I know nothing about those people, Cerotto saw, — Angelo didn't lie, he wasn’t followed.  
— Does that mean no group sex?  
—I will cope better on my own.  
The mafioso growled satisfied.  
— Good boy, this talk feels better.  
In the bedroom gleam of streetlights made their way through the dark curtains, the wind blowing through an open window was too weak to get rid of the smell of booze. On a small table near a half empty bottle there was an ashtray up to the top filled with stubs. The clumsy wardrobe could compete only with the similar huge bed. Lagusa knew, what sort of things it was capable to bear.  
— Will I undress? — he asked, without turning around.  
— Don't hurry — the barrel pointed at his head and brought down a hat. — I’ll regret shooting you down now.  
— I am unarmed.  
The young man took off his gloves one after another and saw the skirt being pushed up. The stocking was torn and roughly pulled down from a hip.  
— Did you forget your pants at home? It drives me, little boy! You are well prepared!  
Angelo exhaled: the weapon stroked his cheek and appeared in front of his face. He noticed a full drum. The feeling similar to pleasure from revenge and its anticipation, excited his flesh.  
— Go on, bad boy —Fango wheezed in his ear. — Lick it.  
Lagusa took the barrel into his mouth and pushed deeper with his tongue. Metal smack filled a mouth with saliva and Angelo forced to swallow.  
— Goosebumps, huh? — the mafioso pulled his hair. — Do the job better, you don’t want to lose your teeth.  
He didn’t want to and tried avoid thinking of the erection, but moaned when Fango removed the revolver and bent him down to the bed. The firm subject pressed against his anus and entered, overcoming the muscles resistance. Lagusa heard a sound of the trigger and opened his eyes.  
— Should I blow up your guts, little boy? — the mafioso confirmed the worst of his fears. — Tell me, why are Vanetti's people here?  
The barrel, slippery from his own saliva, moved between the asscheeks. With the skirt crumpled underneath, Angelo stroked his cock with a shivering hand. The nagging pain strengthened the pleasure, and his sweaty body moved in the opened palm.  
— You don’t seem to get what situation you're in. Answer the question!  
The gun aim touched a prostate and went deeper. Lagusa moved his finger against the urethra, prolonging the pleasure, and clenched teeth, so that he doesn’t lose his consciousness before he can speak.  
— I don't know — the young man whispered, guessing whether he will survive.  
— What did you say, bastard?!  
Angelo fell on his stomach and blinked. The precum oozed through his fingers, a groan, that he tried to suppress, broke from his chest and sounded pathetic.  
— You won't shoot — Lagusa smiled.  
— Do you think you can escape the punishment?  
The mafioso pulled the cigarette out from his mouth and rubbed it out on Angelo's back. The young man hissed from pain and shook his head, sweatdrops falling from his wet hair. The barrel ruthlessly slid on a sensitive point, the cock was poured by weight and needed a discharge.  
— I count up to three, little boy — and fun will start, — the voice lowered and tickled nerves and nape hair. — Three!  
Lagusa heard a click and deafly screamed, when he understood, he came. The sperm was leaking on the sheets, he was afraid to move, but suddenly a handful of bullets fell before his face. The revolver with an empty drum touched the edge of an ashtray with a thin metal ring.  
Fango laughed, giving his “boy” a breathing space. His boots flew into the corner.  
— Let's have some more fun, kid?  
Angelo punched him in the jaw without hesitation. He knew what was coming. The more risk, the better the sex would feel. Mafioso’s frozen face raised his cock and stretched his lips in an anticipating grin.  
— Screw Vanettis, - muttered the man, snapping the buckle and removing the belt from the loops. — I'll smack you.  
Snatching the peignoir over his head, Lagusa threw it on the floor, bouncing on the bed. Leather slipped the cheek of the young man. He noticed the light trace where the holster was, and felt a titillating itching on his lips. Fango pulled him against the bed. The garters crashed into his thighs. The belt hit one of them and the stocking went down. The whistle behind his back - and Angelo’s lower back bursts into flames. He forgot about revenge, about family and Luce. Everything was smacked out by the mafioso’s hand.  
Iron buckle landed in his palm and stayed there, wedged between Lagusa’s fingers. He grabbed Fango by the collar, Angelo’s tongue entered his half-open mouth and tried sharp as a sting taste of alcohol.  
Their eyes met, but the lips didn’t rush to be greedy. The back and buttocks were still burning, the leather belt tightened to cod. They tried to adapt to the new roles, kissing each other with open eyes.  
The mafioso got rid of the jacket, pushed Angelo aside and pulled the shirt off over his head. The young man lowered his hand down his pants, feeling the hard cock and a slight tremble over Fango’s body. He was shaking no less — it was his first time stroking a man’s dick.  
— This one is loaded, kid, you took a toy for adults, - Fango’s laugh was brittle.  
— My name’s Avilio.  
— Avilio, huh?  
Lagusa heard a muffled groan and turned away, getting on all fours.  
— I just started liking it more and more! — the mafioso shouted.  
The sound of pants unzipping was the most desirable for Angelo who was tired of waiting. His back bent under Fango’s weight, feeling the warmth of the skin, pulsing with heat. The young man bit his lip, letting the cock in. Tight pain overwhelmed him and got sweeter than alcohol for an empty stomach.  
The mafioso grabbed Lagusa below the chest. The tremors became deeper and smoother. Fango dropped her cheek on his back, uttering a low moan, and hissed a breath. They were finally resting after a long foreplay.  
Choking himself with crying, Angelo moved towards and sat on the cock. The room was shaking along with him, being washed away in a brown-blue blur. Pleasure flooded his mind and, allowing the madness to overwhelm him, he slapped a hand over the crumpled sheets. The sound was too quiet to cover his moans, but was a signal for the mafioso to continue faster.  
— The young are always in a hurry, - muttered Fango stroking his side.  
With the wide smile on his sweaty face Lagusa was put on his knees.  
— I want it harder — Angelo looked at the wall with a boring ornament, calming his pounding heart. — Then slowly, so that every second is important, and hard again. Again and again, until we both die.  
He felt Fango’s grin on his back, his cock, when he excitedly twitched inside him and understood, that everything will be as it should.

***

The light on the tip of a cigarette, and the dense smoke showed Angelo the man’s location in the dark room. Lagusa thought, that was how the mafioso saw him too: a silhouette with a burning point where the face was supposed to be. He continued smoking, standing naked in front of the window and covering his flesh with Fango’s hat.  
His back, bearing the bruises and the marks of the lashes, was reflected in the oval mirror. His whole body was aching, but the pain clarified thoughts and seemed a blessing he will continue coming here for.  
— Go back to bed, little boy, - the bed squeaked as the mafioso bent, and the streetlight grabbed his face.  
— I'm waiting for a signal from Vanetti’s people.  
Fango whistled loudly.  
— There are no Vanetti’s people.  
Angelo turned away from the empty alley, inhaled, till his nose started to sting, and went to bed.  
— I tricked you, but we had a lot of fun.  
He removed the hat from his cock, Lakuza put it on the man's head and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, the young man saw the darkened face of the mafioso, and reminded himself that the nights in Lawless are the longest.  
— Are you gonna miss me when I'm the first to kick the bucket?  
— Why me? - the young man pulled the blanket off of the man’s knees, playfully squeezing his flesh.  
— Someone has to.  
Angelo's fingers were gentle, but demanding. He was silent while looking into his eyes, until Fango wheezed through his clenched teeth.  
— I guess, I’ll come to you then.


End file.
